[Inspired from watching the movie Blood Diamond. I must warn that it’s vulgar.]
I sit here in my corpulence sucking on a fucking tit
while someone an ocean across lays in the soil sucking for his last breath.
Thousands spent on dresses and fabrics, the ultimate fate of which was to fall to the floor in a moment of patently unoriginal American passion.
Two oceans away she has nothing to wear, but she’s hardly concerned. She’d much rather find something to eat first, and feed the child she was gifted by the insurgent who left her a bleeding mess in a puddle of her family’s blood.
What’s so great about diamonds anyway? About gold, platinum?
It doesn’t feel good to my body.
It doesn’t please like the fuck of you, sprawled on my bed relinquishing all command.
It doesn’t rattle and hum like a rocket engine,
something bigger than your own body that takes possession and feels disarmingly in-charge.
What’s so great about anything that isn’t warm, that doesn’t move?
That doesn’t speak or laugh or orgasm or kill?
Something so great it makes us kill.
To evoke the gasp you’d like her to repeat more rapturously in your bed tonight,
thousands of ounces of blood have reddened distant soil.
Blood from hands, mouths, pussies and limbs.
Three months’ salary for what, to fuck a diamond?
Life is in the tears and twitches of the newborn child;
in the heavy rapid breath of the deflowered virgin bride;
in the silent admiration of the proud father.
If a diamond got nervous and told lies, if gold quivered and complained and whined,
I, too, would kill for it.